


A Study in Scarlet

by Inky_Blackheart



Category: Murdoch Mysteries
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Backstory, Canon-Typical Violence, Decapitation, Emotional Manipulation, Episode Fix-it, Implied Daddy Kink, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kidnapping, Kissing, M/M, Mostly Gillies, Murderers, Murdoch needs a hug, Non-Consensual Kissing, Pining, Psychopaths In Love, Purple Prose, Seduction, Seduction to the Dark Side, Time Skips, Undressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:20:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25726552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inky_Blackheart/pseuds/Inky_Blackheart
Summary: "William didn’t deserve happiness. He deserved Gillies."James Gillies and William Murdoch are meant to be together. Unfortunately for Gillies, Murdoch hasn't figured this out yet. He will, though. No matter how much blood Gillies has to spill to make him.
Relationships: Implied George Crabtree/William Murdoch, James Gillies/Robert Perry, James Gillies/William Murdoch
Comments: 14
Kudos: 34





	1. Part One: A Dusky Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during Seasons Two, Five and Six, with flashbacks between them. Specifically referencing Big Murderer on Campus (S2 E7), Murdoch in Toyland (S5 E11) and The Murdoch Trap (S6 E13)
> 
> Gillies kidnaps Dr. Ogden in an attempt to force William to be with him. The detective proves much more difficult to seduce than Robert Perry.

Part One: A Dusky Rose

“You know what’s funny, Murdoch?” Gillies asked, brushing a lock of mahogany brown hair behind his ear, blinking his bright amber doe-eyes at the impassive detective, craning his neck just so, the way a lady of the evening might when seeking a gentleman caller. His face, cherry red, covered in the faint gleam of sweat, like one who had just finished...illicit activities.

“No,” Murdoch replied, his clean-shaven jaw twitching as he held back blinding rage. It was a good look on the man, Gillies decided, the prelude to the fiery passion of anger. If he could push it just a bit further, he could gain some fuel for his imaginations when he was alone in his cell.

“You’re here, with me, while Dr. Ogden is six feet underground. It’s almost as if you don’t want to find her.” Gillies said, fake confusion raising the end of his sentence. He lifted his eyebrows to further punctuate it, relishing another twitch of the vein in Murdoch’s strong, masculine jaw.

Murdoch’s fist clenched. He shuffled on his feet, the line of his body going rigid. His nostrils flared...but the detective took a shaky breath in, calming himself. _Damn_ , Gillies thought, _ever so close_. “Where is she?”

The same question, repeated five times now, by Gillies’s count. He simply leaned back in his chair. “I gave you all the clues, detective.” He sounded out the word, refusing to break eye contact with his William. “The fact that you’re here, with me, right now, tells me you’re either not clever enough to decipher them, or that you want to spend more time with me.”

Murdoch laughed. It was a cruel, sharp sound. “What man would willingly spend time with you that he didn’t have to?”

Gillies bit his lip. “You’d be surprised,” he said quietly, looking down at the dark oak table at his steepled hands. _I was hoping one might be you_ , he thought, the words dying in his throat before he could voice them. Murdoch slammed his hand on the table. Gillies jumped. “Is that really necessary, detective?”

“Where. Is. She...” Murdoch growled. Oh, how James wanted to hear Murdoch say his name in such a tone. “Gillies,” the detective finished, a full shudder going through Gillies’s body, He had to bite his lip to avoid coming undone entirely.

“Would it make you happy, if I told you?” Gillies asked.

“What does that have to do with anything?!”

“Would it make you happy?” Gillies asked again, mustering up all the sincerity his cold, dead heart could muster.

Murdoch sighed. “Yes,” he said, “it would.”

Gillies smiled sadly. “I thought it might. It might be the only way I could ever make you happy, isn’t it?”

“Are you going to tell me, or am I wasting my time?” Murdoch started walking to the door, still keeping full eye contact with Gillies. He said nothing, remaining focused on the wall directly in front of him. Murdoch left the room, slamming the door shut behind him, leaving Gillies alone with his thoughts.

#

(There was no point denying it. Not to himself. It wasn’t that he didn’t like to be bested, no. It was that Gillies did not like feeling scorn. He was much better for William. Julia was beautiful, yes, but she’d never match his intelligence. And perhaps William felt the same way. The detective had everything he wanted now, but he still wasn’t happy. He didn’t look that way when he watched the detective from afar like some sort of elegant rare bird. William didn’t deserve happiness. He deserved Gillies.)

#

“Do you have any family?” Murdoch asked abruptly, his perfect visage blocked by the bars of the transport carriage. Gillies supposed that he must look a sight himself, crimson blood on his chin, his hair mussed beyond anything that could be considered stylish, his shirt hanging open enough for his light dusting of chest hair to be visible. His William wasn’t looking at that, though. He was staring Gillies down, his inquisitive eyes searching Gillies’s for any hint of sincerity.

“Why would that matter?” Gillies scoffed, leaning back against the wall of the carriage. His head was pounding after the right smarting the boorish Inspector gave him. The cool metal only provided some relief.

“I am merely trying to ascertain if I should contact anyone, to inform them that you are back in custody, and sure to be hanged,” Murdoch said, rocking back and forth from his ankles to the balls of his feet.

Gillies sighed. “No,” he admitted. “They’re all dead. And before you accuse me of something untoward, I was an only child, and my parents died of sickness.”

“They were wealthy, weren’t they?” Murdoch asked.

“Sickness comes to many, rich or poor,” Gillies said, his eyes moving skyward. Why did the man care so much? Was he looking for a reason, some link in the chain that was the life of a one James Gillies that led him to the macabre?

“Do you think they’d be proud of you?”

“No,” Gillies said quietly, his ears turning bright pink. “I should imagine not. Would you be, if you were my...daddy?” He asked impishly, cocking his head at Murdoch.

The detective, god bless his Catholic heart, didn’t grasp the implication. “Of your academics, perhaps,” Murdoch conceded, “but certainly not of the man you have become.”

Gillies started to sputter, started to stammer, the words dying in his throat. He so hated to be made the fool.”

“Why?” Murdoch asked, breaking Gillies from his stupor.

“I don’t like to be bested,” Gillies said, as evenly as he could manage, like that was it, the only reason he kept ensnaring the two of them together, meshing them together as finely as any sturdy garment.

#

_The coward, the fool. The absolute bell-end. Sometimes Gillies wished he’d saved himself for Murdoch, rather than bothering with Robert Perry._

_(He would have met the detective eventually, perfect murder or no. It was destiny, for an unstoppable force to meet an immovable object. It was merely physics, merely the alignment of the stars themselves)._

_Robert wasn’t cut out for greatness, not like Gillies was, not like Murdoch was. He was too weak, too soft, after a life of relative ease. It never once occurred to the utter dolt that he could be caught at all, but perhaps that was an idea Gillies had planted in his mind. Surely, no one could blame him if it took root and flowered._

_Then again, most men would do anything for their ‘sweetheart’._

_Perry was subtle, at first. His eyes would linger on Gillies’s body, on his shoulders and legs and bottom, but in such a way that one could assume he was admiring the work of a skilled tailor. But he inserted himself into every facet of Gillies’s life, telling everyone they were the best of friends, encouraging any female students sniffing around to stay away. James had no such feelings, but Robert was amiable enough, intelligent enough, to keep around. But still, his hypothesis lingered, until it was time to test it._

_They were leaving Bennet’s class when Gillies’s shoe came undone, requiring it to be re-tied. He could have just doubled over and tied it himself, but it was too good an opportunity to pass up._

_It didn’t matter what they’d been talking about. Gillies found an empty bench mid-sentence, when Robert was blathering on, hiked up his pant leg and adjusted his laces. Robert stopped mid-sentence, staring at Gillies’s shapely ankles, at the small sliver of skin between his woollen socks and his pant-leg. He didn’t start speaking again until the laces were tied, the offending skin hidden away again._

“ _Robert? Are you alright? You’re red as a tomato.” Gillies asked, feigning innocence._

“ _Erm, yes.” The young man said, adjusting his tie, his face indeed a bright, burning red. “It’s so warm here today. Someone should open a window, eh, James?”_

“ _I suppose so,” Gillies said. “We’ll just have to hope it cools down this evening, won’t we? We’re studying in my stuffy dorm tonight.”_

_Robert looked like he was either going to be sick or like he was opening a present. “Yes, I suppose we shall.” He hurried off to his next class without looking back._

#

Gillies enjoyed watching Murdoch in his cage, loosening his tie, fidgeting, pacing like a tiger in a zoo. He knew Murdoch could see his smile, how much this was affecting him, but not the full extent. He wasn’t willing to do that just yet. He wanted to wear Murdoch down, get into his head, get him to the point of no return, where he would do anything to get free. Wouldn’t that be a beautiful moment?

Gillies bit his lip as the tie came loose. It was time for the next part of his script. “Every man tells his lover that he’d die for her,” he said, practically purring with joy. “But how many of them are telling the truth?”

Murdoch didn’t answer. He kept looking around, seeking clues. Gillies groaned. Murdoch was no fun. That was all he’d wanted to have, really. So much fun.

Gillies looked at the rouge on the dresser nearby. It was such a garish shade. He wondered what men saw in ladies who wore it, trying to feign a constant state of flushed arousal. Granted, he didn’t see what men saw in women at all. Not when men like Murdoch existed, perfect paragons of masculinity, smelling of aftershave, linseed oil, and fingermark powder.

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” Murdoch snapped. “You’re incapable of it.”

“Of what?” Gillies asked sweetly.

“Of love.”

Gillies laughed. His detective would think so, wouldn’t he? He saw love one way and one way alone. Love wasn’t always selfless, self-sacrificing, warm or sweet. Surely he’d seen enough crimes of passion to know that it could be raw, all-consuming, fiery hot and bitter.

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But my dearest William, I understand it better than even you.”

Murdoch shook his head. “That’s not possible.”

“It is.” Gillies looked at the clock. Time was running out, but he was in no real rush. Either his William would choose to let Dr. Ogden die, and Gillies could use his grief to get what he’d always wanted, or he’d allow Gillies to kill him, proving his foe’s intelligence, and leaving behind a pretty corpse that would be Gillies’s, forever. He got what he wanted no matter what. Then, William could learn what real love was, a fire-red flame that consumed everything it touched. “So what will it be, detective? Will she die, or will you?”

William turned around and looked at the clock. Ah yes, the time paradox. Gillies had been looking forward to this part. He’d been looking forward to seeing Murdoch’s face when he implied what had been done to his person while he was unconscious.

#

(Gillies only regret, for the whole macabre charade, was that he couldn’t fully see the delightful menagerie of emotions that must be crossing the face of one William Murdoch. Disbelief, realization, horror, mortal terror, confusion...oh yes. For such an emotionally repressed man, his detective had a beautiful, expressive face, perfectly formed as if crafted by an angel. No, by God himself. Perhaps he should have had his mask maker create a rubber facsimile of Murdoch’s face, for those lonely hours spent in his hovel, plotting his revenge. Yes, he could have some fun with that. So much fun, one could say.)

#

_Later, that evening, in the confines of Gillies’s dorm, Robert had shed his blazer and was reclining in the wooden chair at the desk. Gillies sat on the bed, books open in front of him, legs crossed. Robert was re-reading the same sentence over and over as Gillies undid a button every few minutes, complaining of the heat._

“ _How are you not dying, dear Robert? I’m positively roasting.” Gillies said, standing up to shed his button-up, leaving him in an undershirt he’d purposefully splashed water on when he’d left to use the washing room. He knew his dusky pink nipples were showing, hidden yet revealed, accessible yet teasing. “You must have stronger countenance than I.”_

“ _I suppose so, my friend,” Robert said, not even bothering to hide where his eyes were looking. Gillies fought the urge to smile. It was all going according to plan._

“ _Don’t I feel the fool, then,” he said, flopping back on the bed, allowing Robert a good view of his entire body, from the tips of his socked feet to his soft, frizzy hair. “Would you be terribly bothered if I removed my socks and pants?”_

“ _What?!” Robert squeaked, turning impossibly redder. “James, that’s indecent?”_

“ _Why?” Gillies asked innocently. “We’re both lads, Robert. I’ve nothing you haven’t seen before.” His thumbs hooked into the waistband of his slacks, teasing them downwards._

_Robert started to sputter as Gillies fumbled with the buttons. “That’s not the point! One should not reveal themselves so brazenly, it’s beneath your station, it’s...”_

“ _It’s hotter than hell in here,” Gillies said, rolling his eyes. “Give me some relief, man. Even if you’re too bashful to get yours.” He dropped his trousers, stepping out of them effortlessly, rolling onto his back on the bed and raising his leg into the air to take his socks off. Robert nearly fell out of his chair, his eyes as wide as dinner plates. “What?” Gillies asked. “You look troubled.”_

“ _I’m not.” Robert’s voice cracked. “Just...hot.”_

“ _Shall we get back to history, then?” Gillies leaned forward and grabbed his textbook._

“ _Yes, I think that’s best,” Robert said, switching to a different book. Economics, Gillies noted with amusement. He couldn’t even think clearly enough to grab the right book._

“ _Did you read the part on the ancient Greeks?” Gillies asked._

“ _No, not yet. Why?” Robert responded, trying to even out his laboured breathing._

“ _It says in here it was normal in their culture to take male lovers. Isn’t that so peculiar?”_

“ _Immoral, more like,” Robert muttered._

“ _I should think so, but...imagine it. It would be so different from a woman, wouldn’t it? After all, a man knows what a man prefers.” Gillies said, taking a long sip of the water on his nightstand._

“ _Are you...” Robert blurted, watching the bobbing of his friend’s Adam's apple._

_Gillies ignored the blithering. “You know what kind of man I’d take as a lover, Robert?” He didn’t give the other man room to answer. “An intelligent one, to be sure. With a good build. Nice and broad. I like dark hair and nice eyes. Someone proper, who won’t even strip to their underclothes in a heatwave.” Gillies smiled at Robert’s face. He looked like a fish caught on a hook, mouth open to accept a juicy worm. He could give him that. “Do you happen to know any men like that?”_

_Robert threw his chair aside, breaking off a piece of the top, in his rush to get to Gillies._

_Though Gillies was the one on his knees, in the end, it was all too easy to manipulate Robert into agreeing to the perfect murder._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote one Murdoch/Gillies fic and now I can't stop send help
> 
> In all seriousness, I was wanting to write another fic for this pairing and couldn't think of any ideas, and then I rewatched The Devil Inside, then the rest of the Gillies episodes, and then wrote this long, meandering fic with gratuitous reverence for the male form, Gillies being a creepazoid, and Robert Perry being a cowardly weasel. It is a character study into my favourite Murdoch Mysteries villain, and I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> This fic (in addition to having a banner, because I'm extra like that) also has a soundtrack: https://bit.ly/2Df99Tc for Youtube and https://spoti.fi/33rPQAx for Spotify
> 
> My Tumblr: https://inkyblacc.tumblr.com


	2. Part Two: Blood Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during seasons six and seven, with flashbacks to season two. Specifically, I'm drawing inspiration from Big Murderer on Campus (S2 E7), The Murdoch Trap (S6 E13), and A Midnight Train to Kingston (S7 E9).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: No explicit rape or sexual assault, but it is heavily implied that Gillies touched Murdoch inappropriately when he was unconscious and that he wants to have...relations with Murdoch's corpse. Still, the work has been tagged non-con, and I'm adding this warning. There is also a sex scene in this chapter and a semi-graphic scene of decapitation.
> 
> And a poor attempt at humour.
> 
> Gillies communicates his feelings to Murdoch. He does not reciprocate.

Part Two: Blood Red

James tried to regain his sight following the flash. He gasped, half in frustration and half in surprise. He wanted to see his detective. He needed to see him. The sweat ruining his perfectly styled hair, his rumpled shirt...it was all Gillies could do not to break down the door to the cage with his bare hands and take the detective against the bars. “Why did you do that?!”

“Because I could.” The detective responded.

 _Love is blind, as it were,_ Gillies thought, watching him struggle. “Well played, Murdoch.” He conceded. He continued with his planned script. He hadn't spent hours writing it to throw it away in the moment itself. “Which is a crueller punishment?” Gillies asked, blinking through the blindness even still, “to kill a man, or to destroy the most precious thing in his life? Which hurts more?”

“I suppose I’m about to find out,” William muttered to himself.

“As am I,” Gillies said, just as quietly.

“What was that?”

“Whatever do you mean?” Gillies responded, resting his head in his hands like an inquisitive child asking a question of a teacher.

Murdoch paused. “I suppose it doesn’t matter,” he said, almost sadly, reaching for the telephone.

“What are you doing?” Gillies asked, panicking. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. He was supposed to let her die. He was supposed to choose Gillies, his only equal. This wasn’t fun. This wasn’t fun at all!

Murdoch’s cheeks were such a lovely shade of scarlet. It would be a shame for the life to leave him, for his body to grow cold, for the spark of intelligence to leave those chocolate brown eyes. “Goodbye, Mr. Gillies,” Murdoch said, without a trace of regret. The gas started to fill the room, obscuring his vision once again.

“No!” Gillies screamed, “you don’t get to leave me! You don’t get to...”

Murdoch ignored him, speaking into the receiver. Gillies seethed with rage. “Fine, then. If I can’t have you, alive as you are now, then no one gets to. You thought what I did to you unconscious was horrible, Murdoch? Imagine what I’m going to do to your corpse!”

Murdoch was already drifting out of consciousness, lying prone on the floor of the cage. All Gillies had to do now was collect his consolation prize, flee the city, and set himself up in a boarding house that didn’t ask questions.

His door flew open, the mighty hand of the law streaming in behind him. He stood up and held out his hands. His voice betrayed his sullenness when he spoke of his detective. He could never win when it came to Murdoch, but at the same time, he couldn’t give him up. It was a sickness, surely as the sun rising in the East, but he would succumb to the infection before he let his William go.

#

_They’d only had proper, immoral sodomy once._

_Robert was distant on the carriage ride back to the dorms from the police station. Gillies wondered what the detective had said to him, to rile him so. Robert was already the nervous type and tended to fumble when he got too excited. Perhaps Murdoch had pegged Perry as a weak link and was trying to trick him into a confession, to turn against him._

_He was silent until they were in the silence of Gillies’s dorm. “Robert,” James said quietly, shedding his blazer with a look over his shoulder. Robert was looking at the floor, his hands clasped in front of him. “Hey,” Gillies called softly, “look at me, darling.”_

_Robert’s eyes shot up. He met Gillies’s gaze and instantly flushed. “What?”_

“ _You know I’d never betray you, right?” Gillies asked, setting his blazer down and walking to his friend’s side. He rubbed soothing circles into the other man’s shoulder. When Robert didn’t answer, he snagged the man’s chin and forced him to look him in the eyes. “Right?”_

“ _Yes,” Robert said quietly, like he didn’t want Gillies to hear him._

“ _Come to bed with me,” Gillies said, mouthing against his ear. Robert shivered and pulled away. “Please.”_

“ _I’m hardly in the mood,” he protested weakly, still leaning into Gillies’s touch. Gillies reached down the planes of his taut stomach, reaching for the hard, leaking sex he knew was there. Robert started panting, resting his head against Gillies’s shoulder._

“ _I beg to differ.” Gillies moved Robert’s hand to the same place on his body. Seeing the detective earlier was enough to get him to half-mast. “I procured some lotion.”_

_Robert laughed. “Do you mean to give me a massage?”_

“ _No,” Gillies laughed against his neck. “Did you miss that chapter on the ancient Greeks? How they used olive oil?”_

_Robert’s hand faltered. “Surely you don’t mean...”_

“ _Sodomize me, Robert,” Gillies whispered. “Let me prove how much I care for you.”_

_Robert stood up, looking down at his best friend-cum-lover. He seemed to be appraising Gillies with his eyes, as he often did. There was some frustration in his gaze, this time. “Yes. A thousand times, yes.”_

_He prepared Gillies roughly, taking out his frustration for the repeated police interludes he’d been forced to endure. He’d entered roughly too, thrusting shallowly a few times before he remembered that he was supposed to make it good for both of them. “So tight,” he’d hissed into Gillies’s ear. “God, you’re so tight.”_

_Gillies glanced down as Robert’s hand wrapped around his angry red cock. Even as his supposed lover jerked him and pounded into him, he couldn’t think of anyone but the detective. He had to bite his fist to keep from moaning out “Murdoch”, but it probably sounded close enough to Robert for it not to matter. He hadn’t formed enough of an impression of the man to determine how he’d make love, but he hoped he’d be better than Robert. Robert fucked into him with abandon, erratically, missing the spot Gillies knew was there. It took thinking of the detective to finally ejaculate, a few seconds after Robert did. Quickly, he might add._

_Murdoch was older. It would, without a doubt, take much longer for him to reach completion. Gillies might even manage two orgasms._

_Or he could take the detective. Wouldn’t that be sweet, feeling the tight press of his body around his sex, how loose he could get the man before he took him, how he’d taste under his tongue. He’d probably be musky, and salty, just like a man should be._

_As he lay next to Robert that night, Gillies made a promise to himself. He’d never do this again, not until he had his detective in his arms._

#

“You’re the one who shot me, right?” Gillies asked the constable, his eyes narrowing slightly. Constable George Crabtree. Murdoch’s precious little chipmunk. He wasn’t so bright-eyed or bushy-tailed today, looking instead haggard, tired, worn down. The little blond one looked from Gillies to George, waiting for an answer.

“Yes,” Crabtree said, looking anywhere but Gillies.

“Didn’t do a very good job of it, did you?” Crabtree rolled his eyes. “Still,” Gillies continued, “I bet Murdoch was very proud of you.”

Crabtree raised an eyebrow. “Why would you say that?”

“You shot the man who almost had his lady love killed. Twice,” he added. “That must have made him so happy.”

Crabtree’s ears flushed cherry-blossom pink. _Interesting, Gillies thought._ “No, he wasn’t. He was too worried about Dr. Ogden to say much about it.” The constable fiddled with his hat.

“That’s a shame.” Gillies leaned back in his seat. “After all you do for him. You took a bullet for his case, too! It must be so hard.”

“What is?”

“Why, wanting to make Murdoch proud, of course,” Gillies said sweetly. “He’s such an impressive man, after all. Anyone with eyes can see that you certainly think so.”

“Murdoch is a great detective,” Crabtree said cautiously.

“George,” warned the blonde one.

“You admire him so, don’t you? His intelligence, his compassion...I wonder, does he appreciate it?” Crabtree said nothing. He shifted nervously, almost dropping his helmet. “I know how you feel. He certainly doesn’t appreciate me.”

“Why would he?” Crabtree scoffed.

“I cleared the path for him to be happy. And what do I get? Not even a thank you!” Gillies said, no longer relying on mock indignation. “You do whatever he asks, whenever he asks. Any embarrassing task, no matter what it is, no matter what state of undress you find yourself in. Do you ever get gratitude?”

“Of course I do!” Crabtree snapped.

“Really?” Gillies raised an eyebrow. “Hmm. I envy you, then. You must be pleased with yourself, making your detective...so satisfied.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The constable stomped over to him, directly on his toe. Gillies didn’t flinch. The chipmunk’s eyes were wide, angry, his fists shaking at his side.

“I think he’s trying to suggest that you...well, like Murdoch like my cousin likes his...roommate.” The blonde one looked embarrassed, his face turning as red as George’s ears.

Crabtree thought for a moment, then exploded with rage. “Why you...you son of a bitch!” He reached out, grabbing a fist-full of Gillies’s collar, practically spitting in his face. Gillies could feel the warmth of his breath on his face, could almost smell the fury. “That’s indecent, and wrong and...”

The blonde one grabbed Crabtree’s arm. “Don’t. Not here. It’s what he wants.”

Crabtree took a step back. “You’re right,” he said, adjusting his uniform. “I’m sorry, Higgins. I didn’t mean to insult your cousin, and I’m sorry if I did.”

“It’s alright,” Higgins reassured him. “He likes you. He’d understand why you said such things.”

Gillies was tempted to ask if the cousin in question was single, but he felt it inappropriate. “Can you fetch Murdoch?” he asked.

“Why?” Crabtree asked exasperatedly.

“Because I need to relieve myself, and I have no hands.”

Chipmunk blinked at him a few times. Higgens looked like he’d swallowed a slug. It seemed to take hours before Crabtree figured it out. “Oh my God.” He said, rubbing his forehead. “No! I will not allow Murdoch to...No!”

“Worth a shot,” Gillies said, shrugging and leaning back in his seat.

#

_Gillies couldn’t be that surprised that Robert testified against him. He was, after all, the tempter, the snake in the garden of Eden, leading the perfect golden boy away from the light of God into the bowels of sin. He supposed the man felt scorned by him, having been tricked into thinking Gillies had tried to kill him by the detective._

_He still thought that when they’d fucked, without a doubt. Had he used Gillies’s body to get what he wanted, one last romp before the noose? Who knew. All Gillies knew was that he’d been right about the man from the start._

_He was a snivelling coward._

“ _James?” Robert whimpered as the saw first cut into the meat of his neck. “Please, don’t do this. I’m sorry I let you down, alright? Let me go and we’ll talk about this.”_

_Gillies stopped, looking down into Robert’s teary eyes, bloodshot and puffy with scarlet veins and violet bags. “Did you love me?” Gillies asked. “Is that why you did it?”_

“ _Did you?” Robert retorted. How fitting that the man would finally show some backbone, when his own was about to be revealed to the world for all to see._

_Blood dripped out of the cut in Robert’s neck. He’d missed this part of their first murder, seeing all the moments of death, all the crimson, all the fear. Robert had never looked more handsome than he did now, a saw pressed just so into the flesh of his neck, blood staining his shirt, and his tears shining with tears._

“ _Answer the question. I’m the one with the saw.” Gillies tapped the blade, making it bounce. Robert screamed in agony._

“ _Yes, alright? Yes, I thought I did.”_

“ _You thought?”_

“ _You were just using me. You were going to betray me if we were ever caught.”_

“ _No, I wasn’t.” Gillies was honest, for once in his life. It had never occurred to him to betray Robert. Perhaps he wanted a friend, someone he could share this darkness with, someone to corrupt down to his level. Maybe he’d feel less alone, that way. “I cared for you, Robert. You were my first.”_

_Robert looked away. “I...I didn’t know that.”_

“ _Of course you didn’t.” Gillies sat back, tapping his chin. “You know, I don’t think I answered you.”_

“ _Huh?”_

“ _I did love you.” Robert smiled hopefully. “But I don’t, now.” The other man’s face fell. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. How could I love you, after you sent me to hang?”_

“ _I’m sorry,” Robert pleaded. “Just let me go. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”_

_Gillies’s face twisted in disgust. The thought of touching anyone but his William was grotesque. He needed to get rid of Robert, to show William his true devotion. He grabbed the blade again. Robert started to sob. “I’m sorry, Robert. I should be thanking you, for bringing my Murdoch into my life, but I find myself tired of you.”_

_Robert blubbered something, probably begging. “Come off it, you damn fool. At least die with some dignity.”_

“ _You’ve already taken that from me,” Robert whined, “I’ve none left.”_

“ _That’s wrong. I was wrong.” Gillies said, sawing ever-faster. “You hadn’t any to start with.”_

_#_

Gillies looked up at his William. His eyes were wild, his hair just this side of a mess. He was panting from exertion. His jaw was tight, his eyes wild. He looked better than Gillies had ever imagined he could.

Even the strikes to the face were just icing on the cake. He knew Murdoch would hurt him when next they tangled, and he would revel in it. He would choke himself, or hit himself, masturbating alone in his cell, trying to picture what it would feel like. He could feel himself throb against his fly. How Murdoch hadn’t noticed it was beyond him.

Still, he asked him to stop. Murdoch lowered his fist, his lip curled, biting back anger that could overtake him at any moment. This was what Gillies had always wanted to see. This was what he’d been waiting for.

He propped himself up on his elbows, looking at his detective with what he hoped were bedroom eyes. “You won,” he stated simply. “For the last time. This is it for us. Doesn’t that make you just a little bit sad?”

Murdoch stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “No,” he scowled.

“Not even, a teensy bit?” Murdoch shook his head. “Come on, detective. You and I share something. Something...special.” Murdoch frowned. “I’ll miss you,” James admitted, trying to look William in the eyes. If this was their last dance, he wanted it to mean something. Murdoch, apparently, didn’t. But he could fix that. “You know that.”

He grabbed Murdoch by the lapels and pulled him in for a kiss.

Murdoch’s lips against his tasted just like he’d imagined. Hot, warm, and with the slightest hint of blood.

His detective was tense beneath him, his body frozen with fear. Gillies grabbed the sides of his face, trying to use his thumbs to get William to just open his damn mouth. This was so much easier when he was unconscious. He knew he was hard against Murdoch’s thigh, and started to subconsciously rut against him. He could taste bile when he kissed William. Was he really that disgusting?

Murdoch started to pull away, apparently knocked out of his stupor. Gillies tried to keep them pressed together, to enjoy this moment, but Murdoch finally used his position to gain enough leverage to separate them. Gillies laughed, his head dizzy, his blood pounding. Murdoch looked pained, like he was holding back vomit. Gillies’s mood darkened. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Murdoch was supposed to love him back.

He hit the detective and made a run towards the bridge, hobbling in his cuffs. He fought back tears as he ran. They burned hot in his eyes, stinging as they were left unshed. There was no point to anything. There was no point in playing this game any longer. Murdoch would never love him. Everything he’d done, every sacrifice he’d made to make William happy, was for nothing. Love was pointless. Love was empty. Love hurt.

He finally understood how Robert felt. Hell, he finally understood how William felt, watching his precious, perfect Dr. Ogden marry another man.

He stopped before the edge, looking down at the black waters below. _A fitting end_ , he thought, _to be swallowed up by the water. We do not return to dust. We start in the water, and to the water I shall return_. William caught up to him. The detective looked panicked, his eyes darting between Gillies and the ledge. His lips were kiss-pink, swollen. “Stop. The water’s too shallow,” the detective panted, “you’ll be killed.”

“Very possibly,” Gillies stated simply. He laughed, bitterly, as he turned to the detective. “Then again, I’ve got nothing to lose.”

Murdoch’s face went slack with realization. “No!” He yelled as Gillies jumped over the edge, into the churning river. The water was ice cold and hurt immensely. He thought he heard a splash, somewhere in the distance, and wanted to imagine that his William had leapt in after him, determined to save his life.

#

(Murdoch didn’t want him to die. Gillies knew that. He’d leapt into shallow, choppy water after him. Gillies would have died either way, but Murdoch wanted him to stay alive. In that moment, faced with the choice between a certain life without him and an uncertain one, his William jumped into the water to be with him. Forever.

A pity neither of them got what they’d wanted.)

#

_Perhaps he’d loved his parents. He couldn’t remember now. His thoughts, his memories, were consumed by the detective. He hadn’t wanted to remember a time before William. Sometimes, he wished he could._

_As he lay in pain, in suffering, in the hospital, miles from Toronto, he wished his mother or father was there. Sometimes, he imagined them standing at his bedside, shaking their heads in silent disapproval. Other times, he imagined them holding his hands, one on each side, like the bandits beside the Christ as he died._

_Or the anti-Christ, if Murdoch was to be believed._

_They’d loved him, of that he was sure. He missed them, of that he was also sure. But part of him was glad they’d passed on, so they could not see his sorry state. He was a victim of love, from two men, now warped and disfigured beyond recognition. He liked to imagine his mother rubbing his broken back. “There, there.” She’d say. “It will be alright. He’ll see what a darling boy you are, one day.”_

_His father would clear his throat. “Son, sometimes things don’t go the way we plan. That’s okay. We just get back up, and keep going.”_

“ _Yes,” James whispered. “I’ll find him. I’ll make him send me to join you. We’ll be happy. All four of us. Together, in hell. It’ll be so much fun, mother, father. You’ll see. We’ll have so much fun, the four of us will.”_

_His parents, even in his imagination, had nothing to say._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor George. 
> 
> Poor Higgins. 
> 
> Christ, poor everyone.
> 
> Except maybe Gillies. I've tried to give him some depth, and I enjoy writing the character, but I still think he's a toolbox. 
> 
> This fic (in addition to having a banner, because I'm extra like that) also has a soundtrack: https://bit.ly/2Df99Tc for Youtube and https://spoti.fi/33rPQAx for Spotify
> 
> My Tumblr: https://inkyblacc.tumblr.com


	3. Part Three: Perfect Crimson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during season 10, during episode 10 (The Devil Inside).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: mentions of murder, attempted violence against a child and hanging. 
> 
> And Crabtree adding some...flavour to Gillies's prison food. 
> 
> Gillies confronts Murdoch for the last time, and Murdoch humours him by granting his last request.

Part Three: Perfect Crimson

“I’ve been watching you, detective,” Gillies said, carefully keeping his mangled side hidden from the detective. It wouldn’t do to shatter his handsomeness just yet. “For years, I’ve basked in the glow of your happiness. You got married, you’re building her a house.” The detective eyed him warily, his gun shaking in his hand. “It seems as though you are constructing a tiny, perfect little life.”

Murdoch looked guilty at the child. Roland, he’d called it. Gillies would have never let William give him up, not for a million dollars, not for the crown of the empire. He’d have raised the child as his own, he’d have taught him physics and mathematics, he’d have made sure the little scamp adored his detective father as much as he did. Julia sent the baby away. She’d proven, time and time again, how wrong she was for him. And William didn’t see it. “Such a shame to see it all come undone.”

“What do you want with me, Gillies?” Murdoch asked, looking at the child still, letting out a deep sigh.

“I want you to love me,” he answered honestly. “Like I love you.”

Murdoch laughed. “That’s not a good joke, Gillies.”

“It’s not a joke, William!” James snapped, tilting his head back. “I love you. I adore you, as much as I abhor you. Everything I’ve done, it’s been for you. You have everything you wanted, William. Shouldn’t I get what I want?”

“You want people to get hurt. You’re a monster.” William said quietly.

Gillies flushed pink with anger. “I don’t care about anyone else! I want you! Just you! I want you to...”

“To what?” Murdoch asked. “James, you must know that men cannot marry other men.”

“Because it’s wrong?” Gillies scoffed.

“Because it’s illegal. Love is not wrong, never wrong, in the eyes of the lord.”

Gillies felt a tear roll down his bad side, burning the tender flesh on the way down. “Do you think me a degenerate, for my feelings?”

William had the decency to look at Gillies with a forlorn glance. “I think you a monster for killing people. You sawed a man’s head off while he was still alive.”

Gillies sighed. “He loved me, you know.”

“I...assumed, as much,” Murdoch said, barely above a whisper.

Was that jealousy? No, it couldn't be. Murdoch was too upstanding for such things. He hadn't even openly envied Dr. Garland. “Don’t you want to know if I loved him?”

“You killed him. I can hazard a guess.”

“Your guess would be wrong, then. Part of me loved him. Until I met you.” Gillies dropped his head and looked at Murdoch with his good eye. His love for this man burned crimson in his heart, warming his scarred, broken body. Surely, Murdoch would see that only he could set Gillies free. “No one else mattered after you.”

“I will never feel the same for you. You must know that.”

Gillies bit his lip. “Be that as it may, I...well, I need your...help with something I’m having a little trouble with.”

“With what?” Murdoch asked emotionlessly.

“I want you to kill me.”

“Why?”

Gillies turned to Murdoch, revealing the extent of his disfigurement. Murdoch, to his credit, didn’t gasp or scream. His eyes widened, but he betrayed no other emotion. “Look at me.”

“What happened to you?” Murdoch asked with pity.

Gillies hated it. “I jumped off a bridge, remember? Because you....”

“Wouldn’t return your feelings.” Murdoch finished.

“I smashed my face on one rock. Crushed my spine on another. Do you know what happens to a spine when it’s crushed?”

Murdoch thought for a moment. “It severs the spinal cord.”

“If you’re lucky. If you’re unlucky, it merely drives bone shards into your vertebral nerves.”

“You’re in pain,” Murdoch concluded, sounding surprised.

Of course, he was. How daft could Murdoch be? “Pain?” Gillies grit his teeth. He could feel the constant ache more acutely when he spoke of it. It took all his strength not to shudder. “It is agony, at the center of every thought, every dream. My body finally matches how my heart feels, being without you.”

“Why not kill yourself?” Murdoch asked.

“Because I want my life to be taken by the object of my admiration and ardour.” Gillies looked deep into Murdoch’s eyes, trying to see if he could see anything, anything at all, that matched how he looked at Murdoch.

“Ardour?”

“Don’t you remember that moment on the bridge?” Gillies asked. He did. With astounding clarity. It was the only thought not tinged with searing pain. Murdoch looked deeply uncomfortable, even in his fantasies. Perhaps the detective assumed he’d kissed him to distract him, or get under his skin. “Detective...I kissed you because I love you. I want to be with you. I want you to see how much we are made for each other.”

“James,” Murdoch said, as softly and gently as he could. That rage, that passion, was gone. Murdoch felt bad for him. He felt empathy for him. But not love. Never love. “That will never, ever, happen.”

Gillies growled and tossed him a gun. “Hurry up, then.” He grabbed a syringe and pressed it to the oblivious child’s neck. “Do it.”

“I won’t kill you. I will watch you hang.” Murdoch said, raising his own gun.

Gillies froze, thinking of the lecture Murdoch gave. “God, no,” he whimpered, seeing if he could get more sympathy. It didn’t work. He pressed the tip of the needle to the babe’s neck, almost breaking the skin. “Heroin is wonderful, but too much can be deadly, as I’m sure you know.”

“No,” Murdoch gasped.

Gillies started to describe the way heroin killed, getting to what would happen to the child, before Murdoch shot him. Nothing happened. Nothing connected. He’d gotten lucky. Murdoch hadn’t fired the chamber with the bullet in it, one out of six. Fate wanted them to be together.

“I had to know,” Gillies said, smiling widely. “I wanted to die, I did...”

“How...there’s no bullets in this gun.”

“Only in one chamber. As you pulled that trigger,” Gillies said, a madman’s grin on his face, “all I could think was ‘not yet’. There’s still so much I want to do. Like kiss you, again. My love.”

Murdoch’s finger squeezed over the trigger, prepared to fire five more rounds until he found the right one. Gillies rolled his eyes, growling at his detective. So...predicatable. “Put down the gun,” he instructed, “or this little chap gets it.”

Murdoch slowly started to drop to the floor, lowering the gun to the ground. “If you hurt him...”

“William,” James interrupted. Nothing Murdoch said mattered. Surely, he would see it soon. That their destiny was each other. That they were meant to be, to dance this way forever. “Thank you. You have given me the gift of life. A new sense of purpose. For that I thank you. We are going to have so...much...”

The bullet went through his chest, only just missing his heart.

#

Gillies lay in his cell. He was in solitary, as usual, kept away from any potential accomplices. He was well and truly buggered now. The pain in his heart returned tenfold. The pain in his body actually seemed dull compared to the bullet hole in his shoulder. The wall dripped into a corner bucket, approximately 346 drops since he’d woken from a lucid dream where Robert Perry dragged him hellwards. It was where he belonged. And he’d never see Murdoch again.

He didn’t even more at the sound of footsteps. He assumed it was some poor constable, tasked with feeding Toronto’s worst criminal. Maybe it was Chipmunk. His globs of saliva really brightened up the slop they fed him.

“James.”

Gillies sat up. On the other side of the bars was his William, looking at him with a mix of pity and hate.

He dragged himself over to the bars, grasping them with his un-bandaged hand to keep upright. “William,” he panted from the exertion, “come to gloat?”

“No, no.” Murdoch shook his head, removing his hat. “I heard you mention your last request to Higgins.”

“The chipper blonde fellow? I surely did.” Gillies tried to stand up all the way. “You could have ignored it, you know. If you’ve come to reject me, please know I’m in a sufficient amount of pain already.”

Murdoch sighed. “No. I’ve come to grant it.” Gillies smiled from ear to ear. “Part of it,” Murdoch clarified. “I will not touch your genitals. Ever.”

Gillies was still smiling, almost bouncing with joy. “Oh, my William.” He said, sticking a hand through the bar to reach for Murdoch’s. Murdoch reluctantly let him take it. “I can die happy.”

“I...I suppose everyone deserves that.” Murdoch said, approaching the bars. “Find a spot. I won’t open the door, either.”

“No, I should assume not.” Gillies walked two paces, found a slightly wider gap in the bars, and stuck his face through. He licked his lips, dry, cracked and red from his cell, waiting for Murdoch to come to him. Murdoch approached, standing directly in front of him. Murdoch’s eyes were clear, bright, and sad. He’d been lying, Gillies realized. He would miss him after all. “William...”

“Pucker your lips,” Murdoch said quietly. “Let’s get this over with.”

Gillies did, closing his eyes so the anticipation would make it all the sweeter. Murdoch’s press against his mouth was dry but firm, with the same scent as the last time. Gillies gasped and Murdoch hesitantly tapped his lips with his tongue, Gillies’s darting out to meet William’s. Murdoch stilled, closing his mouth, letting Gillies lick at the line of his lips and let out obscene little moans. When Murdoch pulled away, a scarlet flush decorated his cheeks.

“Well. There you are.” He said, straightening his tie and putting his hat back on. “Now we can end this.” He started walking away, his steps impossibly loud on the cell door floor.

“Wait,” Gillies called out. Murdoch paused but did not turn around. “I love you,” Gillies said, the most honest he had ever been in his entire life. “I love you more than anything on this Earth. I want you to know that.”

Murdoch sighed. “I already did.” Before Gillies could reply, he left the room. “I’ll see you soon, Mr. Gillies,” he called over his shoulder.

Gillies let out a howling laugh. Surely he would, in this life, or the next, if the hypocrites and bigots were right and their embrace had damned them both to hell. Perhaps Murdoch would escape God’s judgment, and they would be separated forevermore. It mattered not. For Gillies, for all time, would have this moment in his bloody red heart, whether it beat for Murdoch or not at all.

FIN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are, at the end. 
> 
> I'm honestly a little sad that the writers of Murdoch Mysteries killed Gillies off. I know it makes the most sense, but I'm going to miss the little creep. Michael Seater, hats off to you. You were the best Murdoch villain ever. 
> 
> Oh, to be a fly on the wall when Gillies made his final request to Higgins. The man surely does not get paid enough. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's left comments and kudos on this fic. It's so appreciated, and I honestly didn't expect anyone to read this because Murdoch Mysteries is a smaller fandom. It really makes my day. You're all beautiful. ❤️
> 
> This fic (in addition to having a banner, because I'm extra like that) also has a soundtrack: https://bit.ly/2Df99Tc for Youtube and https://spoti.fi/33rPQAx for Spotify
> 
> My Tumblr: https://inkyblacc.tumblr.com


End file.
